One
Susan loves trees.
She doesn't really have a reason for this. All she knows is that she has loved trees since forever. She loves the feeling of solid bark under her palms, the rustle of leaves when the wind weaves its gentle fingers through them, the graceful way a leaf slowly drifts down to the ground, the sheer texture of a new leaf, the crunch of crisp leaves underneath her boots.
The trees in Narnia were even better. Susan loves to hug them, and to hear them whisper back to her. She loves the great oaks, the sprawling firs, the elegant willows. Roots always twisted up beneath the dirt to greet Susan whenever she walked by.
The trees in London just couldn't compare.
Two
Susan supposes she has always been jealous of Lucy.
She was jealous of her little sister's unrelenting faith in Narnia; in Aslan. Susan had been beyond ashamed when she was the last of all siblings to see Aslan, the mighty Lion. Words had been unable to describe what she felt, and somehow Susan felt as though she had let Narnia down, let Aslan down, let her siblings down.
Sometimes, at night, when Susan is done partying and her feet still pinch from the insensible heels she wears, she wonders what would've been if she had the same amount of faith in Aslan as Lucy did.
She wonders if things might've been different, if she just had a little more faith.
Three
Archery is one of Susan's favorite things to do in her free time.
She loves the sense of security the bow and arrow supplies her, the 'twang' her bow makes when she releases her arrow, the whistling of the bow when it slices effortlessly through the air and lands right on target.
Four
Susan had been scared plenty of times, and she wasn't afraid to admit it.
There were small scares, like her first day of school and her school exams; and big scares: when Lucy hadn't resurfaced when they were escaping those wolves, when Edmund had been struck down by the White Witch and he hadn't picked himself up again, when she was watching Peter battle Miraz.
It wasn't until much later that Susan realized all of these moments included her siblings.
Five
Still, none of those moments could compare to when she had found out about that train crash. She remembers being disbelieving at first. Shouldn't she have felt part of her soul being ripped out from her, if they had died?
She remembers stumbling to the scene of the train crash, with shapeless blue sacks aligned on the road, each containing someone who used to live, laugh, and love. They couldn't have left her like this… they couldn't have… no… it was utterly impossible… it couldn't be true.
Susan doesn't remember much after that, except for the fact that she started hating the color blue ever since.
Six
Clowns scare her.
Susan knows that it is probably rather irrational. Her mother has reassured her enough times that clowns were simply real people, underneath tons and tons of makeup. Even so, clowns were still scary.
In fact, when Susan was ten, she received a clown doll from her friend as a birthday present. Susan kept it for several days, though she couldn't get to sleep at night at all. She tossed, turned, and tried desperately not to look at the glassy eyes of the clown in the night. Everything about it scared her: the red nose, the elaborately painted mouth, the brightly colored suit.
And well… Susan just might have chucked the toy clown out of the window one night, when she couldn't stand it anymore.
She denied it all when anyone asked about it, though.
Seven
Until now, Susan still cannot think of an idea as to why she ever wanted to put on makeup. She had detested the poisonous stuff ever since she was a child, and privately decided to herself that she would never wear any. Her mother told her she was beautiful enough without any makeup on.
And yet, Susan still wears enough to paint a small wall every night.
Susan only realizes just how blind she was until it is much later, when remembering and regretting past mistakes have absolutely no use now.
Eight
There is one thing she has done that Susan will never forgive herself for: not visiting her loved ones' graves for thirty years straight.
Susan supposes that she thought that she wasn't strong enough to face the pain.
Susan visits them eventually, when she is a gray-haired old woman, holding large bouquets of flowers. She prepares daisies for Lucy; they were always her favorite flower. She sets them down on each grave, and reads the epitaphs on them. She still remembers a few: Lucy's Only sleeping, her mother's Here she lies, deep in dreamless sleep, and Professor Digory's His friendship was an inspiration, his love a blessing.
She reads them over again. Overcome by emotion, she cries by the tombstones, her tears leaving dark stains against the sturdy stone.
She visits them everyday after that.
Nine
Susan hates blood.
She hates the sight of it, the smell of it, the taste of it. She hates the way it fills up her mouth when she gets one of her violent coughs. She hates the way it is slowly filling up her weakening lungs, invading them.
She hates the way it gushes out of a slowly-dying body when a sword pierces its heart. Blood was one of the main reasons why Susan never went to battle, except when it was really necessary.
Susan hates that blood will eventually fill up all of her lungs soon, and that she will eventually die.
Ten
Susan loves the color gold.
It's the color of the Lion's mane in the glorious sunset when He welcomes her back into his arms after a long, hard life she can barely remember now.
It is the color of the grass that rustles beneath her feet as she hurries forward to greet her beloved family, the family she hasn't seen in nearly forty years. And all of her Narnian friends... Reepicheep, Caspian, Mr and Mrs Beaver, Mr Tumnus and his scarves, Trumpkin, Orieus, Trufflehunter, Doctor Cornelius and plenty more who are smiling and calling her name, 'Susan! Queen Susan!'
It is the color of the dress she is wearing as she hugs the Lion, Lucy, Edmund, Peter, Eustace, Jill, Mother, Father, Professor Digory and Aunt Polly as she sobs and tells them how much she missed them so.
It is the color of her crown, as Aslan warmly tells her, 'Once a queen of Narnia, always a queen of Narnia.'
Somehow, Susan feels as though it is the color of love.
Author's Note: Ah, I love writing these! They're pretty easy and fun to write, actually. I'd love to expand from just the four Pevensies to Eustace, Jill, Professor Digory and all those. Maybe even Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie! Please review and tell me if that's a good idea. )